About Crestline

Crestline Elementary was a fabulous school. How do we know this? Ask Lilith Saintcrow.

In her words:

This is the school where the office staff knows every student’s name and the teachers pour their souls–and most of their paychecks–into every kid in every class, not just their own. This is the school where any adult that’s not known on sight AND carrying a red volunteer badge or sticker is clustered by very polite but inflexible staff and volunteers, to be escorted to the office to sign in. It’s the school a ten-year-old boy loves so much he’s excited on Sunday night because Monday means he can go back. The place was held together by the steady commitment of teachers and office staff, who made it work with spit and baling wire some days, and volunteers who pitched in where they could even after their kids went on to other schools. 
This is the school where nobody goes home until all the kids are accounted for at the end of the day.
An extraordinary school indeed.

On Sunday, February 3, Crestline Elementary burned to the ground.

Literally. Nothing's left of the building itself.

The classrooms. The library. Where these kids played and learned, where staff taught and worked.

Everything gone.